


Swap

by Blueberrybowbitch



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Trans Oswald Cobblepot, oswald adopts ivy (and martin if we live that long), swap au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-03-20 10:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18990466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberrybowbitch/pseuds/Blueberrybowbitch
Summary: AU in which Oswald becomes a private investigator and Jim becomes a gangster.





	1. Drop The Bat

**Author's Note:**

> HOO BOY  
> ok so idk where this is headin be we sure are goin!!  
> Basically, im taking the show and turing it ass up  
> No beta no coherent thought we die like men.

The Private Detective, Oswald Cobblepot looked up at the Gotham city police station, squinting through the cold wind that whipped around him and sent black hair flying haphazardly around the frame of his face. The building didn’t impress him, and he was equally unenthused by its interior. Still, he pulled his coat closer around him and shuffled up the steps to his new workplace. 

Once inside, he was paid no mind as he made his way back to the locker room. He’d been given his “grand tour” already, the captain dismissively giving him pointers around the place as he tried to discern the details she left out. He’d been the subject of many wary glances from the other officers, and he returned them generously. He wasn’t here to make friends. He’d opted to start on a different day to prepare himself properly.

He placed his things carefully into a grimy locker, curling his lip up in disdain and formulating plans to bring in cleaning supplies ASAP. He looked up into the small mirror hanging on the locker’s back wall and took himself in. He looked even more tired than usual. More disheveled, too. The circles under his eyes glared at him against pallid skin. The oversized coat he wore crumpled his three-piece suit, and his bowtie was drooping sadly. He frowned deeply at his reflection until the locker clicked shut. 

At his desk, he folded his coat over his chair and settled into his seat. Immediately, he went about opening his case files, not looking up. A beat of silence passed before he heard someone clear their throat from across his desk. He ignored it and another moment passed.

“So, you’re my new partner, huh?” A voice made him pause in his shuffling of papers to look across his desk at a man sitting opposite him. The man didn’t look much better than Oswald felt. He glanced down at the name card that was just barely visibly under the rubble of the man’s desk. Harvey. Right. He had a partner. When the letter came into his private office, the request for him to join the GCPD’s detective staff had informed him that he’d be assigned a partner at the station. The captain had told him the man’s name, but he hadn’t been at the GCPD when she briefed him.

He was a rough looking man with greying stubble, long hair, and a leather coat draped over a rumpled suit. He hoped he kept judgment from twisting his face. He probably didn’t look much better, after all.

“I am. My name is- “

“I know your name, Cobblepot, are you ready to go?” He cut Oswald off as he began to stand up from his desk. Oswald blinked.

“Go?”

“Yeah, go. Some guy got shot during a robbery on...” Harvey squinted down at a paper on his desk and mumbled something like, “I’ll know when we get there.” then held up a hand, “Trust me, I didn’t want to take this one either but it's my turn apparently. It’s always my turn. But it’ll keep me off of this paperwork for an hour before I get to go home.” And with that, he grabbed a lidded coffee off his desk and started off towards the door. “Come on, lets see if that big brain everyone’s yammering about stands up to legend, kid.” ¬

Oswald stared after him. He wondered what kind of people his partner had gotten his gossip from. It wasn’t likely that it came from the policemen looking at him like a bird loose in the station. He wondered if Bullock was pulling him out for the purpose of seeing whether he “stood up to legend.” Distantly, he felt indignant that his first case would be so low brow, and he was just contemplating going back to his files to perhaps convince Bullock to direct their attention elsewhere when he heard shouting from below. A glance downstairs revealed that a man being walked to the cells had broken free, stolen a gun, and was now holding a cop at gunpoint with his back against the bars.

That’s something. 

The man wanted pills. Oswald was able to disarm him quickly by making him believe he was giving them to the poor addict. He felt a twinge of disgust at the officers that apprehended him again, violently. Harvey pulled him back, and when Oswald turned around, he was met with a sneering Harvey.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Harvey spat. 

“I deescalated the situation.” He said defensively, as Harvey let him go.

“If one of those scumbags pulls a gun on a cop. You shoot,” Harvey sniffed as Oswald pulled his coat on, “Don’t pull something like that again.” When Oswald shrugged, the older man pulled a pout and drank from his coffee. Insufferable.

“Bullock! Cobblepot!” A voice made them both startle and look up to where Captain Essen was standing. “There’s a double homicide on Park Row, I need you two to go check it out.”

“We’re heading out, shifts almost over anyway, have Alvarez do it,” Harvey called back.

“No way! I did the last one,” said a man sitting at a desk nearby, “It’s your turn.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Bullock, just go.” Essen interrupted their bickering, sounding exasperated. 

-

Two bodies laid in the dark alley as they walked up to the scene. Oswald gazed over them for a moment, Harvey close behind him. Oswald’s eyes fell past the unfortunate pair, to a young boy sitting on the steps nearby, wrapped in a blanket. He felt a heavy weight in his chest. Behind him, he could distantly hear Harvey swear when he looked down at the bodies.

He told himself that the boy was likely a witness with vital information as he placed himself carefully on the steps next to him. The reason his voice was so soft and understanding when he said hello, was that it needed to be for the sake of gathering a statement from a witness. A witness, not a boy who Oswald desperately wanted to comfort. 

“What’s your name?” 

-

Harvey was pissed. But Oswald felt smug as he listened to the angry voices from inside the captain’s office. When he stormed out, Harvey looked ready to start swinging at Oswald as his grin grew. 

“She said you have to keep me.” Oswald correctly assumed, watching Harvey’s frustration boil over.

“You’re full of yourself.”

-

So, they kept the case. The detectives trying to take it off of Harvey’s hands made sure of that. Oswald trailed after Harvey into a flashy looking bar, where he kissed cheeks with a beautiful woman named Fish Mooney. Her intense gaze made Oswald shift on his feet with discomfort. So, when he heard a sharp cry, followed by laughing, he was quick to walk past them, ignoring Harvey’s call to him to come back. He didn’t follow Oswald though, held back by whatever Fish was saying to him, so he reached the door leading out into the alley.

But before he could twist the handle, it came swinging open, making him stumble back. His hand flew to his pistol and he kept it there as he looked at a grinning man in the doorway. The man’s smile disappeared the second he made eye contact with Oswald, and as Oswald glanced down to see the bloodied bat in his hand, he saw the fingers gripping the handle tighten.

He was a scruffy blonde man that looked almost as short as Oswald was. He wore a white undershirt, and his toned arms were littered with small scars and bruises. 

“Drop the bat,” Oswald heard himself saying. The bat clattered to the ground.

The momentary shock dissolved from the stranger’s face, and a smile returned. He leaned over slightly to look past Oswald’s shoulder and towards the room where he left his partner standing with the club owner.

‘Fish?” The man's voice boomed past him and Oswald felt himself frown deeply. So, manners have completely left the station here.

“Let him past, Jim. See if that punk wants to press charges.” Fish’s voice rang back. Oswald raised his eyebrows as Jim turned back to him and huffed out a laugh. Recognition flashed across the man’s face and a small awed feeling swelled in Oswald, because the man was, well. Pretty. 

“You’re that new detective.”

“Yes.”

The battered man in the alley did not, in fact, press charges. But Fish gave them a lead. That lead ended with a man named Mario Pepper lying dead in an alley by Oswald’s feet. Bullock swore and put his gun back into his holster hastily. Oswald remained silent as he gazed down at the man Harvey shot, listening to the incoming sirens. 

He felt dread. 

-

Shiny Shoes.

He knocked lightly on the door of the Pepper’s apartment for the second time. The intense familiarity stung him, mostly because he lived in very similar conditions throughout his childhood. He stayed for tea and didn’t flinch when the unfortunate widow named him and his colleagues bastards. He agreed, after all.  
Mario Pepper didn’t own shiny shoes. When he stormed into Fish Mooney’s bar demanding answers, she smiled and motioned for her men to move in. Oswald felt cold as he swiftly killed each and every one of them. The small knife he kept on him now glistening red. In the daze the aftermath left him in, Fish broke a chair over his back. She beat him half to death. 

She was just about done mangling Oswald’s leg into an unrecognizable mess when a voice cut through his shrieking. He fought to remain conscious as he listened to the fuzzy sound of arguing above him.

~

“Stop!” Jim’s voice rang out before he could process any second thoughts. Fish’s arm, brandishing a chair leg, stopped in its tracks as she looked up at him sharply.  
“What was that, boy?” Her voice cut slashes across his courage, but he didn’t move from where he stood. Jim was Fish Mooney’s go-to man whenever she needed to dish out heavy violence. Jim was usually happy to oblige, but when he looked down at the crumpled form at her feet, he felt something crack. 

It was almost the same crushing sensation he felt the day he met the Detective. When he swung the door open to tell Fish Mooney that they’d cracked the thief out back, he was met with a pair of bright, inquisitive, and beautiful eyes. And they were full of disdain. The young man had his hand on his gun and he was looking down at the bloody bat his hand. Jim felt his muscles tense up. 

And he felt shame. He felt so much crushing shame that he almost wanted to kill the kid for making him feel like that. Almost. Mostly he wanted him to stop looking at Jim like he might vomit at the sight of him. Or like he was scared.

Now, Fish was looking at him incredulously, waiting for an answer. Jim stared back dumbly for a few beats before speaking, fighting to keep his voice steady.  
“Stop. Please.”

~

Oswald felt his faculties returning to him through the blinding pain, just in time to hear Mooney’s voice speaking clearly above him. 

“Kill him then.”

Silence. Oswald couldn’t look up, his face was planted firmly on the lush carpet, and a tiny familiar voice in his mind reminded him that he’d most likely be hit again if he moved around too much. So, he lied still and waited. He tried to remember whether he remembered to say good morning to mother or not. It felt like an eternity before another voice spoke.

“I can’t- “A voice that was just on the edge of familiar floated down onto him, but was cut off.

“Then you can shut the hell up and tell Butch to come get him.” Fish sounded mad. Good.

Silence again. Oswald was getting tired.


	2. Gotham's Finest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is getting attached to Oswald and Oswald is getting paid medical leave.

“Is he breathing?” Jim looked down at the detective laying on the concrete floor and tried to discern any movement.

“Oh, oh goddamnit.” Butch bustled past him and crouched down next to him and felt for a pulse, before straightening his shoulders.

Jim watched closely as Butch sat Oswald up, facing away from both of them and the two other men in the warehouse. Jim bristled as he watched him lift the back bloodied man’s jacket, shirt, and undershirt at once to reveal a much shorter black garment underneath. Jim could barely think to ask what it was before Butch flicked out a knife and quickly cut a stripe down the center of the fabric, along the spine. 

A pained gasp erupted from Oswald, followed by a spout of harsh coughing, shaking the man’s small frame as he doubled over. Butch hastily pulled his clothing back down and patted him on the back. Jim looked at him as he stood with confusion written on his face.

“How’d you know that was there?” He could save the question of what it was for later. After he convinced Butch to let Oswald live.

“I knew this brat. Knew who he was as soon as he stepped out behind the club.”

“What? When?”

“Long time back, I was still fresh in the business and he was some street trash kid.” Butch glanced down at Oswald, who was taking careful breaths, still facing away, with his head on his knees, “Almost liked having the little rat around, but he ran off and started running with narcs, ain’t that right, Penguin?” At this, Oswald stilled, but he didn’t look up. “Anyway, yeah, he ran with us, I practically payed for that thing. Never needed one myself, blockers and all that, but I knew damn well he shouldn’t have been using bandages.” Jim furrowed his brow and nodded as things clicked into place. Butch had explained what blockers were, so he could make an inference, he still had a functioning brain, after all. He thought about his words carefully.

“You cared about him?”

‘Somethin like that.” Butch gave Jim a hard look and Jim stared back.

“Isn’t that worth anything to you?” A look of anger passed over Butch’s face before he huffed a laugh. 

“Fish told me you had a soft spot for him. Couldn’t believe it. What’s gotten into you? Just yesterday you cracked one of Maroni’s guys like an egg.”

“It’s- different.,” Jim grunted, shuffling on his feet, “Don’t you at least- “Their conversation was interrupted by the doors of the warehouse swinging open. Men brandishing guns walked into the building with purpose, and Jim, Butch, and the other two men quickly held their hands up in surrender. Behind them followed non-other than Don Carmine Falcone.

~

Oswald kept his eyes down as he listened to Butch and his men being chastised by a calm voice.

“Tell Fish that she has to ask for my permission before she starts killing cops.” Unrecognizable, but the man’s tone of voice implied danger and power.

“Yeah, come on man, these are our boys we’re talking about!” …Bullock. He looked up just as Harvey kneeled down in front of him and unlocked his handcuffs. He lowered his voice when he made eye contact with Oswald, “Don’t worry, brat, I’m getting you outta here.”

“Hooray,” He grated out with a weak smile.

Once he was standing again, the old man motioned for the other men in the room to leave, and they did. He saw Jim pause, staring at him intensely, before following. Oswald was quickly putting pieces together about who the old man was as Harvey patted his arm on his way out. Wincing at the hit to his bruises, he turned to the remaining man who was sizing him up.

“Don Falcone.”

“That’s the name,” he said with a smile as he walked over to stand in front of Oswald, who suddenly felt very small. He pulled his clothes together, grimacing at the realization that he’d have to purchase a new binder soon. But he had to clear this up first.

“The GCPD and the mob framed Mario Pepper.”

“Correct.”

-

Oswald leaned heavily against the door to his flat and listened to it shut with a snap. Falcone didn’t kill the Waynes, and he didn’t know the killer. It was a ploy to close the case quickly. To hold onto his power. Sensible. Despicable. He eyed his empty apartment with cold resolution. He recalled his momentary relapse in memory during his beating. For one, blinding moment, he’d completely forgotten the events that lead to his mother’s demise, years before he ever attended the police academy.

-

Jim let himself fall backwards onto his bed. His apartment seemed even quieter in the aftermath of the day’s events.

His mind raced with thoughts of his detective. He was alive. Battered and likely seething with hatred, but alive. And Jim intended to keep it that way. Falcone and Fish think he’s trouble? 

They’ve got no idea.

-

Oswald was turning restlessly in bed. 

Oswald was a very young man when his mother met her grizzly end. He was desperately making ends meet, finding work in any way he could. Butch was a good friend, always keeping his head on straight during robberies and helping him calm down whenever lives were lost. Making sure he was eating and letting him crash on his couch. 

One day Butch brought him along on a job meant specifically to kill. They broke into a luxurious home and waited. But they were expected and the target was bigger stronger and faster than Oswald. And Oswald was scared. 

They’d got caught in a grapple and the man tried to choke Oswald, so he clawed at his eyes until he let go. Then Oswald stomped on his face. Hard. 

The target survived. Ten days later, Oswald came home from school to find his mother dying on the floor of their apartment. He’d held her and wept, trying to comfort her as she faded.

And the police never even responded. Paid off by the man Oswald had hurt. 

So, Oswald snuck back into his home and sliced him apart.

-

Essen gave Oswald a few weeks off to recuperate and heal. He spent the first few days stubbornly attempting to utilize his damaged leg. After collapsing on his living room floor for the third time and having to call Harvey to bring him new bandages because they kept soaking through, he opted to drag his amenities to his bed and camp out there, getting up only for bathroom trips.

The doctor he visited had barely saved his leg to begin with, and had warned him nearly a thousand times that if he let it get infected, there would be next to nothing they could do for it except amputate it. Still, Oswald pushed. 

~

Oswald still hadn’t returned to work. Jim’s lackeys informed him that he’d been hiding out in his apartment since the event, and he was getting worried that they’d broken the man before they ever even spoke properly. He’d need Oswald’s expertise, and he needed to know how he was faring.

~

A week and a half into Oswald’s medical house arrest, there was knock at the door at around 4pm. Oswald planned to ignore it in favor of watching a rerun episode of Full House, but the knocking persisted.

Gritting his teeth, he limped through the apartment, brandishing his pistol, and leaned against the door frame to catch his breath, all the while, the knocking ground against his ears. He plastered the meanest smile he could in his state and swung the door open.

When he did, he was met with a pair of seafoam blue eyes not unlike his own. 

Ivy Pepper, the girl who answered the door of Mario Pepper’s apartment. 

The girl whose father Harvey subsequently killed.

“Ivy.” He lowered his gun immediately and leaned over, holding the doorframe for stability, to place the weapon on the table nearby, quickly flicking the safety on for good measure. 

“Mister detective. Can I go inside?” Despite her question, the girl was already ducking past Oswald and looking around his house. She turned around to watch Oswald looking out into the hallway.

“What are you doing here? How’d you even- does your mother know you’re here?” Oswald turned around in time to see a very deflated look pass over her face before she turned heel and walked over to his couch, where she proceeded to flop down onto it unceremoniously. 

“Nope.”

“Why? How’d you find my ad-” 

“She died.”

“Oh.” Oswald stopped short and watched the girl eye his bookshelf before she turned to him.

“You don’t have a TV?”

“What? I’m- it’s in my room. Ivy, you should call- “

“It happed four days ago, the cops came and went. It was suicide so- “She paused and gave the air next to Oswald a hard look before cast her eyes to the floor, “Whatever. Can I watch TV?”

Oswald wasn’t quite sure what to say. Sorry wouldn’t cut it, he knew that much. The girl needed to leave, but to where? The foster system? The streets? She couldn’t stay here, that’d be insane. Still…

“Ivy… Have you eaten?”

-

The next few days were a blur of frustratedly trying to cook meals and not give the child invading his home too much information about how his injuries came to be, as she drilled him with questions about everything that popped into her mind. She came and went as she pleased, despite Oswald’s fretting, saying that if he wasn’t going to talk, she wouldn’t either. 

“Did you have a freak mime accident? …You know I can cook for myself, right?” Ivy said as she watered the aloe plant she’d placed on Oswald’s kitchen counter. Oswald was slumped by the stove, watching two grilled cheese sandwiches sizzle on the pan. All she received in answer was a grunt. 

She huffed a sigh and walked over to him, grabbing him by the arm and half dragging him to the dining table, where he sat gratefully. She padded back over the stove to finish their breakfast.

The next morning, he found her absent from the apartment. She always stayed for breakfast. He was flinging his wardrobe open to change out of his pajama’s when he found his clothes absent as well. Realization dawning on him, he fell back onto his bed and contemplated just how he’d tell Harvey that a twelve-year-old scammed Gotham’s finest detective.

He spent maybe an hour lying there before he heard the door slam shut. He sighed in relief before hearing not only Ivy’s voice, but another voice, arguing with her. He sat up as quickly as he could and made his way into the living room, finding her standing there with another child, who turned and gave him a shocked look.

“You’re staying with this cop?”

“Well I said so, didn’t I?” Ivy responded to the girl with familiarity.

“Ok, I’m out.”

“Bye then, Cat. “As the girl left, Ivy turned back to Oswald before sidestepping, revealing a basket of clothes. “You didn’t have a washer, so.” She also seemed to be wearing a pair of Oswald clothes. She watched as he noticed this as pulled her outfit from the basket. “Sorry, I had to wash mine.” Oswald gave her a confused look before something struck his mind, and all questions about the other girl disappeared.

“You don’t have any other clothes?”

“No?” She laughed as he wiped his hands down his face with a long groan. He felt like an ass. 

“Okay, we’re going shopping as soon as I physically can.” In response to his words, her smile dropped and she gave him an incredulous look.

“You’re really gonna let me stay here?”

-

“Oh, so you are a nutjob,” Harvey said as he watched Oswald fill out the paperwork on his desk. 

“I have the space, plenty of room in that flat,” Oswald replied, not looking up.

“Do you know how to watch after a kid?”

“It can’t be that hard.”

“Oh really? Where’s she now?” Oswald did look up at that.

“She’s… still there? I told her to stay there.”

“Uh huh.” Harvey shook his head and looked into his coffee cup with a frown before beginning to stand up, “Good luck with that.” 

“I owe her.” Harvey stopped where he’d began to walk and turned to give Oswald a glare. Oswald returned it, “We owe her.”

“Well I hope she doesn’t expect any Christmas gifts from uncle ‘killed your dad” With that, Harvey continued on his quest to the coffee machine, leaving Oswald grinning down at his papers, despite himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in and they've barely spoken lmaooo
> 
> If I lulled you into a false sense of security abt ozzy's mom being in this story then rip lol. My original plan was to include more hints abt that, but it didn't match up, pace-wise.
> 
> Anyway! two chapters in quick succession! To preface, there's no upload schedule, these are just gonna pop up when they're done cuz im a mess so strap in!


	3. Fashion Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy and Oswald get some presents.

Jim stood outside of the detective’s apartment building with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. The night was late and the object of Jim’s attention had been absent from his home nearly all day. Jim took this as a sign that he’d recovered well.

In the shadows of the alley, he watched the lights of Oswald’s flat flick on quietly. There was no shift in the air of Gotham’s streets, but Jim felt lighter on his feet as he made his way around the building, softly bumping the package held inside his jacket against his hip. He’d been good and patient. Now that Oswald was well, they could properly talk.

~

Oswald’s leg ached with relief as he fell down onto the couch with a groan. He watched with drooping eyes as Ivy waded and searched through the shopping bags they’d hauled up the stairs, now scattered across the floor of his main room. He shifted and pulled one of the couches pillows from across the couch and stuffed it behind his back as she pulled one of the bags back into her hands. 

“I found it! Okay, I’m going to my room for a second! Don’t move!” She hurried out of the small bag-maze, nearly tripping as she continued,” I wanna show off this dress!” 

Oswald didn’t think he could move even if he wanted to disobey her. He sank into the couch and sighed. He’d seen most of the outfits they’d bought together. Though she did try to sneak quite a few things into the cart, and though Oswald’s wallet was weeping, he didn’t have the heart to remove them. 

~

Ivy felt a little bit dazed from the day’s activities, but it didn’t slow her down as she raced into her room. Oswald had cleared the space for her and washed the sheets on the bed inside, and though there wasn’t much to see in the room yet, she was already moving plants inside in an attempt to make it her own.

The man’s apartment was filled with “old world junk” as her mom would’ve called it. Plates with intricate designs lined the shelves, and a tall ticking clock towered next to the front door. Shaded lamps and candles made the atmosphere warm and almost cozy, casting soft shadows on the wooden cabinets and worn cushion seats. Ivy liked to think her plants complemented the scenery. Oswald didn’t seem to mind, at least. Ivy had caught him quietly watering her lilies at least twice now, and though he did shift the pots on the counter to make breakfast, she found that he often moved them back.

She closed her window curtains and padded over to the bag she’d thrown onto the bed. She pulled the dress out with a grin. 

When Oswald saw her looking at the dress she’d scoffed and turned heel on it to look at something else. Later, she’d noticed that he’d taken it off the rack and placed it along with the others in the cart.

The dress wasn’t… her usual style, but she was no less entranced by it. The top of the dress was a very light pink, with a soft blue ribbon around the waist, as well as a small bow on the neck’s lining. There were no sleeves save for a small burst of white frills on each shoulder. The skirt of the dress was what sold her in the end. From the waist down was an explosion of colorful floral patterns, blue and purple and pink interwoven with a lovely shade of green, and the skirt’s lace poofed outwards as she twirled in her room. 

She’s waited for him to come home from work earlier that day, knowing that they were going to go shopping. She’d browsed through his bookshelves and stewed in her excitement nearly the whole day. It ’d been ages since she’d gone shopping properly. 

When she was a kid, like, a younger kid, her mom would take her to stores and let her pick out clothes. She didn’t remember it that well, only that as she got older and the times got harder, those trips became less and less frequent.

~

“Move the bags! Make room!” Ivy’s voice traveled down the hall and Oswald sighed. He dragged himself from the couch and wondered how exactly he’d gotten to this point, indulging a child who he barely knows every wish, and why?

The answer to that rattled around in his aching chest, but he ignored it. The kid needed a home, and he had one, so whatever.

“All clear!” He yelled after moving the shopping bags around the side of the couch. He’d have to move a dresser into her room, he realized, and rubbed his temples in agony as he sat back down. He pulled his coat closer around him. He hadn’t managed to find a binder in-store, though he’d suspected as much. He’d have to track down the place he ordered from before, though it was ages ago. The girl was aware of the matter, on account of it being fairly difficult to hide from someone who lived in your home and saw you in pajamas every morning. He tried to push worries from his mind, as she’d made next to no comment, other than to ask him why he lost his binder, a question he couldn’t answer, but he found himself pulling his coat around himself as Ivy’s footsteps drew near.

Ivy sauntered into the room with a mock attempt at a fashion show’s strut, not addressing him until she’d reached the center of the room in front of the couch. When she turned to him with her hands on her sides, she had the meanest, and the happiest smile he’d ever seen on her. And he found himself smiling back.

Then there was a knock on the door. 

~

It was fairly late to be having visitors. Oswald glanced at Ivy, who only shrugged, before standing up again with a grunt. He made his way to the door slowly and opened it.

He was met with a wave of familiarity, looking into the eyes of the man he’d met at Fish’s club. Jim, if he remembered correctly, was standing in the hallway in front of him with a friendly expression. 

“Hey, Oswald.”

He stood in shocked silence for a moment, before recovering and giving a tentative smile. If the mob was sending men to his door, he was in trouble. His mind raced with the possibility that Falcone had simply decided to kill him after all. 

“Hello… Jim, right? Would you like to come in?”

“I’d love to,” Jim said easily as Oswald side-stepped to let him pass. He found himself nervously straitening his bowtie, telling himself it was in the name of cordiality. Jim continued, “Lovely home. Busy day?” He said, looking down at the bags.

“Yes, very. Would you like to have a seat?” He looked around the room as Jim nodded and sat down on the couch where Oswald was seated only moments before, finding that Ivy had disappeared. He hoped that she’d simply retreated to her room instead of climbing out the window like her friend loved to do. When he turned back to Jim, he was looking at him with a strange expression. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, no, actually,” Jim shifted in his seat, shoving his hand into his jacket, searching. Instantly, Oswald was on full alert.

“Sorry about the mess, by the way, my- sister has been staying here for the past few weeks. My little sister,” Oswald said quickly, making Jim stop and look up at him with a puzzled expression before his face twisted into what seemed like a mild upset. He hoped that the presence of the child was enough to keep the man from just pulling out a gun and shooting him in his home.

“It’s alright,” Jim said, soothing Oswald despite his nerves, “I was saying,” He continued, turning his face down as he pulled a brown paper package from the inside of his jacket, “I brought you something.” 

Jim stood up again, not waiting for Oswald to walk over. He closed the gap between them and held the package out in front of him. 

Tentatively Oswald took it, from him. The package was soft and bent easily under the paper in his hand.

“Did Falcone send this?” His words were met with a chuckle as Jim shook his head.

~

Oswald didn’t trust him at all. The thought stung Jim’s heart as Oswald questioned him about the present. He’d thought Jim was pulling a weapon on him. Just a violent criminal. He had to prove to Oswald that they were on the same side.

“Carmine doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” His words made Oswald face twist with confusion, fluttering his eyelashes and putting an undeniably cute pout on his face. 

“Then,” Oswald glanced down at the present, “Why are you here?”

Jim sighed, and moved to sit back down, soft shuffling followed him, and Oswald sat carefully placed himself on a recliner close by, as Jim seated himself back on the couch.

“I’m here because I thought it was important to check in on you After what happened. And to give you that, of course,” he gestured at the unopened gift in Oswald’s lap. Oswald’s gaze softened, but confusion was still written across his face. When he was met with silence, he continued, “I had a feeling we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to... try again.”

Oswald seemed to consider his words for a moment before recognition flashed in his eyes.

“It was… You were there when Fish…”

“Yes.” Jim watched Oswald leaned back and huffed. Then he furrowed his eyebrows and gave Jim a hard look.

“You called him ‘Carmine.”

“Yes?” Jim was put off by the change of subject, but he didn’t protest.

“You’re on a first name basis with Gotham’s top Don?” At this Jim smiled, Oswald was a detective, after all.

“You could say that, yes.” He left it at that, and though Oswald didn’t seem satisfied, he took the hint and redirected his gaze towards the gift. 

“You can open it,” he said, sitting back. Slowly, Oswald pulled the paper apart, revealing a black binder, identical to the one he wore that day. His eyes shone, but when he looked up, there was danger in his eyes.

“Is this supposed to be some kind of threat?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then what the hell is it then?” He sounded furious. Jim was sure he’d need one after the events at the warehouse. He was stumbling in the wake of Oswald’s unexpected reaction.

“Butch helped me find it” He tried, and the bristling posture Oswald had deflated a bit.

“Of course he did.”

“So, you two did know each other?” He said carefully, and Oswald nodded.

“A long time ago. It doesn’t matter now,” Oswald didn’t seem happy about the conversations turn, but the anger had gone from his face and he was looking down at the cloth thoughtfully, “I guess he’d gotten a bit deeper than I previously thought.”

“So did you,” Jim said calmly. Oswald glanced up and gave him a small smile.

“I suppose so.”

There was silence for a long moment before Jim leaned forward, catching Oswald attention.

“I’m here because I want you to know that you can trust me.” Oswald gave him a hard look in response, searching his face. The silence seemed to stretch on for ages before Oswald spoke.

“There’s a storm coming, Jim. A war. I hope you know that.”

Jim smiled, and though perhaps he didn’t know for sure what Oswald meant, he knew with utmost certainty that he was correct.

~

That night, while Oswald slept, he dreamt of that smile again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last! they actually speak!
> 
> Fun fact: my cat sat on my keyboard while I was writing this chapter and nearly ruined me lol


End file.
